


8 ways to drive Norman Osborn insane...er

by sketzocase



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Humor, M/M, No Angst, humorous and pointless, light - Freeform, no darkness, norman osborn loses his shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sketzocase/pseuds/sketzocase
Summary: How do you drive a man of power, dignity, and immense wealth to the very brink of insanity?Well.... his ‘team’ has concluded exactly 8 foolproof ways. Each one of them as insane as the last.A few days of this? Osborn will be looking just a little ‘green’ around the edges.





	1. The name game!

**Author's Note:**

> Did y’all see the news??? The awesome news??? They’ve ordered a Dark Avengers script to be written! The Disney gods have smiled upon us!!!! 
> 
> Anywho- I got excited about Dark Avengers and happened to be digging in my shit and found a rough draft of this baby and decided, in honor of everything, to post it. 
> 
> It’s crack. It’s silly. It’s got a vague plot. And it’s got all of my favorite fuckups in it! 
> 
> So please, enjoy, rejoice at the good news, and if you’d be kind leave a kudos or a comment to tell me how you liked it!

In Avengers tower, way up at the top of the building with it's shining glass exterior, there is a briefing room. Once used by the mighty- now used by the equally as mighty but not.... so ethical.

The windows of the room are large- lining the entire wall that faces the city. Making for some beautiful views. Tony Stark- a man of ill repute nowadays, built it well. Norman Osborn 'inheriting it' was the bain of the hero's existence.

Osborn runs this tower with an iron fist.

He surveys his city with a cold gaze- taking in any signs of attack. Any signs of someone plotting against him.

Sure, the heroes have protested his rise to power. Even more so his authority. Leaving him the leader of the Avengers- but with no Avengers to lead.

So he gathered his new team.

They're not loyal. They're not ethical. Most of the time they're a step from murdering each other.

At the end of the day, however, at least half the job gets done.

With his various holds in politics nowadays- Half the job is more than enough for Osborn to spin the mission into a success as far as the press is concerned.

Most importantly out of all of this is that HE is not here.

HE is a criminal.

And HE can be stopped. 'Arrested'. Taken into custody and meet the jaws of an unforgiving Venom.

After all- what's the point of having Venom on your team if you don't feed him?

A certain web-slinger would do wonders for his diet.

Venom is not the only 'questionable powerhouse' as he likes to call them.

His whole team is composed of heavy hitters. People who are not afraid to get dirty.

No- not dirty. Bloody.

Osborn will do anything to protect his position of power. He'll do anything to keep being on top.

He's worked so hard to get here. So hard to claw his way out of the grime and muck. He's not losing it on team members who didn't want to get a little blood under their nails.

Of course, he can't really break it to the world that these heroes are not who they claim to be. Luckily- a few costume adjustments and a little bit of PR has them looking on the up and up.

Which is good for his image. He likes things that are good for his image.

The briefing room has housed many a team. Many a mission has been spoken in the walls. Many a day has been saved.

The first thing Norman did was gut it. Put his own spin on it- as it were.

The only thing similar to the old was the large table that spans the length of the wall of windows- plush office chairs to seat his 'Avengers' while he tries to berate hem in briefings that usually last upwards of an hour.

This is his arena. This is his stage.

It is up to him- and only him- to bring the hammer down.

The room is cold- as Norman likes it to be. He wants to create an atmosphere of discomfort amongst the psychotic hooligans he calls a team.

So far- none of them have taken note.

Or verbally taken note, at ay rate.

The fact that they're all defiantly in their sleeping attire would suggest that they are in some form protesting.

Norman is certain he can wait them out.

He straightens his tie, glancing around the room and silently seething.

“I’ve called this meeting to discuss the nature of yesterday’s mission.” He says gravely, glancing at his team. “And I will remind you- once again- that these briefings are to be attended in uniform.” he glances around at his underdressed crew. “A rule which you’re all breaking, yet again.”

The room is quiet as team stares at him with the same vacant expression on all of their faces.

“While I’m sure showing up to these meetings in your bedclothes is humorous to you- I remind you yet again- that you are to be professional at all times while outside the living compartments.”

‘Hawkeye’ Yawns, propping his bare feet up on the long table.

He, like Mac, is dressed in boxers and a white undershirt.

Both the men seem very pleased with themselves- so Osborn decides to give it none of his attention.

Ares chuckles in the back, sharpening his ax in the corner.

Norman is unhappy to note that he is also in bedclothes- a pair of shorts that he is not quite sure who he procures and more so how they fit his large frame.

He glances up and Norman. As if daring him to say something in the ways of calling him out.

Norman decides he quite likes his appendages where they are- that is to say, not hacked off- and that he should let it slide and push forward. “Ms. Hand has alerted me that several of you abandoned a very publicly broadcast mission yesterday in favor of...” he glances down at his notes, “Attempting to tip a news van, sitting down on the sidewalk to play on your cellphones, going into an adult store- in full costume, taking lunch off of some citizen’s table-“ He’s sure to stare a Mac for that remark. The man remains unfazed. “And setting a small portion on the park on fire to settle a bet.” Norman crosses his arms. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”

“We were bored,” Lester says simply.

“Bored?? There was a 60-foot robot recking havoc!” Norman lets his temper slip from the get-go.

“Robots don’t bleed,” Mac says, looking at his nails. “And they don’t have any yummy parts.”

Everyone stares at Mac for a long second.

"What?" he asks. "They don't."

“I think, Norman, what my teammates are trying to convey,” Karla says, “Is that these missions you’re giving us just are doing the job. We require... bigger scale operations.” Karla sits in her shortest pair of black shorts and her tightest, lowest cut white camisole. She's braless- of course, why wouldn't she be? When she leans forward, she leaves nothing to the imagination.

Even to Norman, it is slightly distracting.

He strengthens his resolve. He knows that head games Karla Sofen plays. It's why he hired her in the first place.

He, however, will not get sucked into those games.

Not like the hundreds of poor saps this woman has manipulated to her bidding.

Karla's blue eyes dance with mischief now- but he knows that they'd turn ice cold in a second.

She's a murderess. Plain and simple.

And she's good at it. Really, really, really good at it.

Norman can respect that.

“Is that so?” Norman asks coldly.

“Nope.” Lester says throwing a pencil and embedding it in the ceiling- right along with a dozen other pencils- all done in a pattern that spells 'bored'.

At least he's not aiming at his teammates today.

Norman calls that a stride towards progress.

Not progress exactly- but a step towards it.

“Not even partially,” Mac adds, yawning and playing with the hem of his undershirt.

His skin is pale white and his frame is small. It's absolutely impossible to believe that he houses venom within him.

Yet- there it is. Running along his back and neck- almost taking control- almost not.

“We require a bigger foe,” Ares says from the end of the table, putting down his ax.

Composing his next thought, Norman looks his team over and stops. “Where is Noh-varr?” he asks.

“Fucked if we know,” Mac says. “When does this thing wrap up? I want lunch.”

Norman glares at him. “Where is Daken?”

“In bed,” Karla says in disinterest.

“And none of you thought to wake him?” Norman snarls.

Insolence. Complete and total insolence

Barely worth keeping around- the whole lot of them.

“Oh, we thought about it,” Lester says with a grin. “None of us wanted puncture wounds today.”

Norman exhales slowly, running a hand through his red hair. "As I stated before- attendance to these meetings is mandatory,” he says crisply.

“Don’t know why you’re bitching at us,” Mac says. “Daken’s the one who decided to sleep in.”

“Yes well... we shall be remedying that shortly.” Norman picks up his phone and dials Victoria’s number. “Please send personnel to the living compartments and retrieve Wolverine for us.” He says. “Quickly.” He hangs the phone up and turns back to his team. “So.” He says. “In light of yesterdays numerous fuckups, there are new rules. Three of them. Listen carefully." he glares at his team. "One, you will dress professionally. Two, you will complete the missions you are assigned exactly how you are assigned them, there will be no detours and no distractions. Three, you will not now nor ever set anything on fire or cause any other damage to the city and its inhabitants that don’t strictly need to be done for the sake of the mission.” He glances around. “Are we understood?”

“Sure,” Lester says. “But you’ll have to tell Hawkeye. He’s not here. You really shoulda waited for the whole team to get here.”

“You’re Hawkeye,” Norman says, glaring at him.

“I’m Spider-Man.” He says. “Hawkeye's not here.”

“Mac is Spider-Man,” Norman growls.

“I’m Ms. Marvel,” Mac says.

“Karla is Ms. Marvel.” Norman glares at them.

“I’m Wolverine,” Karla says, looking at her nails.

“Then I’m assuming Daken is now Hawkeye,” Norman says.

“No, Lester is Hawkeye- Daken is right there.” Mac points at Karla.

“No, Karla-“

“I’m Karla.” Mac puts his hand on his chest.

“No-“

“You are some shitty leader- aren’t you?” Lester sighs. “Can’t even keep your own team straight.”

“Hawkeye-“

“is not here,” Mac says.

Norman turns on him. “Gargan I will take that symbiote out of you so quickly that the both of you will die on the spot. Do you understand m-“

Mac gasps. “That’s no way to speak to a lady!!”

“YOU are not a lady.” Norman snarls. “You’re a symbiote toting, cannibalistic, moron.”

“I take offense to that,” Lester says.

“No- you don’t,” Norman says, turning back to him. “Because I’m speaking to Mac.”

“I am Mac,” Lester says smugly.

“No- you’re not,” Norman says, fuming. “You’re Lester- he’s Mac, she’s Karla. Are there any questions?” Norman is getting quite fed up with this if he's being honest. He refuses to let them get the better of him- however. He's certain he can come out on top.

“Those aren’t our names,” Mac says, grinning.

“Excuse me?” Norman growls.

“Those aren’t our names,” Mac repeats.

“Oh really,” Norman says. “And I suppose your name is...?”

“Peter Parker,” Mac says.

Norman’s eye twitches, he turns to Lester.

“Peter Parker.” The man echoes Mac’s statement.

“Patrica Parker.” Karla says. “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Norman rubs a hand over his face. “You’re to all use your real names this instant.” He says. “Am I understood?”

“Of course,” Karla says. “Silly us.” She holds her hand out across the table. “Moonstone.”

“Your NEW names,” Norman growls.

“Patricia Parker,” Karla says with a smile.

“Your REAL NEW NAMES!” Norman snaps.

She holds her hand out again. “Wolverine.”

Norman glares at her, going to say something when the door opens up.

“Ah- Daken, how nice of you to join the team.” He snarls, turning on his heel to face to the man, who's more underdressed than any of his teammates- including Karla. Norman doesn't know where he finds the nerve to behave as he does.

“I was already here,” Karla says.

“You are Karla Sofen,” Norman says.

Daken takes a seat at the end of the table.

“Parkers.” He says with a nod.

“Good morning, Parker,” Karla says.

"What did she call you?" Norman growls.

"Parker." He says. "Peter Parker."

Out of ALL of the names they could have picked- out of all of them- they choose his.

Norman stares wordlessly for a second. “So I’m to believe that YOU are also Peter Parker?” He says flatly.

“The one and only,” Daken says.

“And you’re all... Peter Parker.” Norman says. “Is that what you’re saying?”

They look around.

“No,” Lester says. “We never said that.”

“You just said-“

“You’re losing it Normie.” Lester chuckles, throwing another pencil.

"Stop that!" Norman snarls, turning to him. “What is your name?” he demands.

“Spider-Man.” He says.

"NO, It is not!" Norman yells.

"Was when I woke up this morning," Lester says, reaching across the table and going for the basket of pens in the middle.

"NO." Norman slaps the basket out of his hand, sending it to the floor.

"Ya know- IF I wasn't Spider-man- I'd be pretty pissed at you for touching my hands." He says.

"Tell me your name," Norman says coldly, enunciating every syllable.

"Spider-man," Lester says. "Like I've been telling you all fucking morning."

"AHA!" Norman says pointing, "Spider-man doesn't say 'fuck'." he says. "Therefore, you are not Peter Parker, ergo you are not Spider-man."

"So... no one is Peter Parker so no one can be Spider-man?" Karla asks.

"Yes," Norman says.

"So... Mac's not Spider-man." She smirks.

"No-"

"I'm not?" he says.

"Yes- you are," Norman says.

"Then I'm Peter Parker," Mac says with a grin.

"You are not Peter Parker- but you are Spider-man. Do you understand?" he snaps.

"You're backtracking," Daken says. "You said if he's not Peter Parker he's not Spider-man. He's not Peter Parker. Ergo he's not Spider-man."

"He is Spider-man!" Norman yells.

"Then he's Peter Parker," Daken says.

"No-"

"Then he's not Spider-man."

"Will you shut up???" Norman thunders. "MAC- you are Spider-man. Do you understand????"

The man nods.

"Good." Norman smoothes his tie again. "So," he turns to Mac. “What is your name?”

“Spider-Man,” Mac says.

"Good," Norman says. "Very good." He turns to Karla. “And yours?”

“Spider-Man.” She says, crossing her arms and leaning back in her chair.

"No- you are not." Norman hisses. "But we'll come back to you." He turns to Ares. “Ares-“

“I am also the man of spiders,” Ares says with a smirk on his usually stoic face.

“You’re all Spider-Man.” He says. “All of you.”

“You didn’t ask Hawkeye if he was Spider-Man,” Mac says.

“AHA!” Norman points. “So you admit that one of you is Hawkeye and thus not Spider-Man!”

“Hawkeye has decided to take up the mantle of Spider-Man,” Daken says. “It’s a true superhero miracle.”

Normal looks around his briefing room.

“Everyone will take their own names this instant.” He growls. “When I point to you, you will tell me your correct name and we will settle this.” he glares at them collectively. “Karla-“

“Petrarca Karla Sofen Parker.” She says with a grin. “At your service.”

He looks at her with a manic gleam in his eyes.

“You!” he points to Mac. “What is your name?”

“Spider-Man,” he says.

“Good! Thank you, let’s move to-“

“Wait- wait- wait.” Mac interrupts. “I take it back- I’m Venom.”

“You’re Spider-Man,” Norman says.

“Venom.”

“Spider-Man,” Norman says.

"I'm not Peter Parker- so I'm Venom," he says with a smirk.

"NO- you are Spider-man."

"Venom."

"Spider-man!!!"

"VENOM!" Mac yells back.

"Spider-man!!!!!!" Norman yells- even louder. "You are Spider-man!"

"I'm not not not Spider-man," Mac says.

"IF you're not not not Spider-man then you're Venom," Norman growls in annoyance.

Logic is something he prides himself in. If Mac thinks he's going to throw him by using reverse logic- he is wrong. Dead wrong.

“Spider-Man,” Mac says.

"Venom,” Norman growls.

"Spider-man!" Mac argues.

"By that logic you are Venom!" Norman yells.

“Fine- I’m Venom then, ”Mac says smugly.

Norman looks around the room. “What? I mean- no- no- you’re Spider-Man.”

“Peter Parker- at your service,” Mac says.

“You’re not-“

“I’m finding this dreadfully boring,” Daken says. “We all have a lot of web-slinging to do so if you don’t mind-“

“No one moves from their seats until ALL of you tell me your PROPER names.” Norman snarls. “You.” He points to Lester.

“Peter Parker.” The man says in a bored tone.

“No!”

“Mac Gargan, then.” he smiles.

“No!” He turns to Daken. “You.” He says.

“Norman Osborn.” the man says.

“No-“

The mutters agreement.

“You!” he points to Ares.

“I suppose I shall also be Osborn.” he says. “if we are dismissing our man of spiders title.”

“It’s Spider-Man!” Norman cries- voice crazed. “Not the ‘man of spiders’- Spider-Man!”

“Fine. We’re Spider-Man then.” Daken says.

“You can’t all be Spider-Man,” Norman says.

“We rotate,” Lester says.

Karla nods. “One pair of web-shooters, after all.”

Osborn's face has turned red. His eyes are bulging. There's a vein that's pulsing in his neck.

“You will tell me your correct names or so help me god- you will suffer!” Norman yells before turning to Mac. “What is your name!?” he demands.

Mac is quiet for a long minute. “Norman Osborn.” He says.

“No, it is not!” Norman thunders. "Yours!" He points at Karla.

"Norman Osborn." She says.

"NO! NO! NO!" he yells. "I am Norman Osborn!"

"No, you're Mac Gargan," Daken says.

"What...?" He looks around. "I'm... I'm... NO! I am Norman Osborn- I know this to be true. You cannot trick me! I am not a bumbling idiot."

“Mac, I don’t like the way you’re speaking to me,” Mac says. “I am the commander of Hammer. You will show me respect damnit!”

“You are not Norman Osborn! I am Norman Osborn!”

“Mac, I’m surprised you don’t recognize yourself.” Daken gasps. “You should really get that checked out.”

"I-"

"Yea Gargan," Lester says. "You look like shit."

"I'm not-"

"He's right," Karla says.

"The venomous creature should go get rest," Ares adds.

“I’m not-“ Osborn says hopelessly lost.

“You really don’t look too good,” Lester says.

“I’m-“

“We should go get a medic,” Karla says, standing from her seat.

“Be right back,” Mac says. “And if you move from that chair I will replace you so fast your head will spin.”

The team disperses.

“Norman.” Someone says in parting.

“Parker.” Someone replies.

The room is empty as Norman looks around.

“I’m... I’m Norman Osborn,” he says.

Someone turns the light off, leaving him there in the dark.


	2. Bring your own lunch!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what happened with the last chap- my editing app kinda shit out on me.  
> My bad!  
> Had to go back and do it myself. Anyrate- it’s all fixed now! Hopefully, it’ll get this one the first time. I’m going to run it through at least three times so it should catch everything!  
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I'd say this chapter would be a very weak PG13 kind of chapter for some slight scary imagery involving a cannibalistic alien. 
> 
> Please leave a kudos or a comment to tell me how I’m doing!  
> And like always, Enjoy!

“Now, if you’ll all turn to page six of your debriefing packet,” Norman says, pleased that his team is actually behaving this morning. A little on the quiet side of things- if he's being honest. With their behavior lately, one would think that was suspicious. As is- Norman's decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. They're quiet. He asked for it- he got it. He's not one to question a good thing. “You’ll note that the numbers-“ A soft thudding noise is heard outside the window. Some bird probably trying to make its way in. “You’ll note that-“ The noise persists, getting louder. A series of loud thuds against the glass- as if someone were walking on it with heavy feet. “You’ll note that-“ He winces when the noise repeats for the third time. “Good god, what is that thudding!?” He growls, tearing his eyes from his packet to the window, where Mac is crawling along the outside of the building.  
“The hell is he doing???” Osborn yells.

“Getting lunch,” Daken says, sounding bored. His packet is torn in half and he's slowly ripping the halves into tiny little shreds. It's a very dedicated way to destroy paper.

“Getting...”

“Yea, we send him out every day in full Venom mode to see what he finds and make a bet on what he’ll bring back,” Daken says, looking up at him. “It’s very entertaining.”

“Yesterday he brought back a leg and a few pigeons,” Lester says, turning the cover page of his packet into a paper airplane.

Norman knowingly walks over and takes the packet and the airplane from him- thus lowering the possibility of someone dying in a most 'unusual' way.

The fact that his 'Hawkeye' apparently has a lust for blood, violence, and death that overhauls all rational thought and behavior is something you think he would have gotten used to at this point. He was in his Thunderbolts team, after all.

But no. All it's given him is an edge to stop Lester's more destructive habits before they backfire on Norman himself.

The man doesn't seem to mind that his toys been taken. He leans back in his chair.

Norman is happy to note that they are all in actual clothes today.

Ratty, worn, tattered clothes- sweats and tanks on everyone with socks and no shoes- but at least they're not bedclothes.   
That means the team is making progress. Norman likes progress.

"You're sending Mac out to get your lunch," he says. "In his 'venom' form." He repeats this slowly so they can hear their mistake and correct it themselves.

"No." Daken corrects. "We're sending him out to get his 'idea' of lunch and bring it back for us. The fact that he's in full venom mode is a necessity so he can retrieve enough for all of us. We don't eat it... but the gesture is appreciated."

“You’re... unleashing Venom onto a civilian populace for entertainment??” Norman asks, dumbfounded.

The group shrugs.

“Day before yesterday he brought back a bumper,” Lester says.

"And a dog," Karla recalls.

"A... Dog?"

"Oh be quiet, Norman." Karla rolls her eyes. "The dog is fine. I took it to my room. It was roughed up- but alive. His name is Osborn."

Norman glares at her.

Karla raises her hands in an 'I surrender' fashion that Norman knows not to be true.

"No pets in the tower." He growls.

"He's not a pet," Daken says. "He's a team member."

"Oh is he?" Norman crosses his arms. "And exactly does this 'team member' do?"

"Protects our shit." Lester says. "he's a very good boy."

"Get the dog out of the tower and get that slobbering monster back in this briefing room!" Norman snaps. "That is a direct order from your leader!"

"The dog stays," Daken says, shredding and shredding his packet.

"And you're the one to make that call- are you?" Norman chuckles.

"Dog stays or we go," Lester adds.

Norman stares at his team for a long moment. "You're willing to risk your jobs- which for some of you are your only way to keep from being incarcerated- for a dog. A random dog. An insignificant, slobbering, flea infested mutt."

The three look between each other.

"Yes." They say in unison.

There's more thudding outside the windows, tearing Norman's attention back to the Mac situation. "We will come back to the dog." he hisses before pointing to the window "Call your game off and bring him back in here!"

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Daken says, looking at his nails before sweeping all of his shredded paper- all ten pages- to the floor.

“And why not?” Norman glares at the mess he's just made but decides to tackle this whole situation one point at a time.

There will be time later to 'correct' Daken for his briefing room behavior.

Norman finds he'd be more 'corrected' if he were shot on sight every time he fucked up. A nice little bullet wound to the head.

While they only slow him down momentarily- he's seen them alter Daken's behavior somewhat before.

Made him slightly.... incoherent and sloppy. Norman took pride in seeing it.

He'll have to start using that method whenever he sees fit to make Daken stop something.

Like you would a dog with a water bottle.

The thought makes him smirk.

Daken glances up with a grin. “He’s fully Venomed out. Bring him back in here and there’s no telling what will happen. Especially with you smelling so, so, so yummy.”

"Excuse me??" Norman says, creeped beyond belief at that statement.

"You honestly don't smell that horrible cologne before you put it on?" Daken asks, raising an eyebrow.

"My... cologne?"

"Swapped out some ingredients," Lester says, grinning as well.

"You did... what?" Norman's face pales.

"Took some away, added some of our own," Daken says. "It was a very covert operation. Very hush-hush."

"What did you put in my cologne??" Norman demands.

"Some bacon grease." Lester says, "Water we rinsed a bunch of meat in... you get the picture."

"You made me smell like meat??? Before you unleashed a fully hulked out Venom???"

"Yep," Lester says.

Norman stares between his three team members assembled in front of him. "Why?" He asks weakly.

The three of them shrug.

Mac crawls back across the windows- heading to the other side of the building.

“Hmm... birds or window washers?” Daken asks, taking his eyes off of Norman and his 'plight'.

“Depends. My bets on window washers.” Lester says. “How hungry was he?”

“I’m not sure.” Daken hums. “I didn’t think before I set him loose.”

“You... You ‘set him loose’??? You’re ‘setting him loose’?? On a daily basis. You’re working up a cannibalistic alien on a daily basis???”

Daken leans back in his chair and looks out the window. “Oh look. Window washers.” He says. “You win Lester.”

“Stop him!” Norman says.

The room is quiet.

“That is an order!”

“Oh, let him have his fun.” Karla says, "It's not like you want him in here... do you?"

"No, I do not!" He agrees.

"Then you want him out there," Daken says with a smile.

"Oh no." Norman points at him. "We are not doing this today. So the three of you can stop. Venom is to be contained- do you understand? One of you- I don't care which- will go get him." He says.

"He's just having a little fun." Lester groans. "God. You're so uptight. Loosen up a little!"

“His ‘fun’ involves eating people!!!” Norman yells.

“He doesn’t judge your hobbies,” Lester says.

“My hobbies don’t involve devouring innocent people!”

“Look who’s all ‘holier than thou’.” Daken mocks.

Norman goes to the wall of windows and pries one open- just in time to see Mac pulling on of the innocent window washers on the other building, off on the window and dangling him high above the street in one massive hand. “Put him down, you idiot!” He yells.

Mac looks up at him in confusion.

“Down!” Norman orders.

Mac shrugs and drops the man- sending him to his death.

Norman stands motionlessly.

“In his defense- you did tell him to drop him,” Daken says. "I'd close that window if I were you."

Norman spins around. “You,” he says. “I don’t know how you did it, I don’t know why you did it- but this is firmly on you. Venom, the meat cologne, the lunch game- you. You did this.”

“Prove it,” Daken says disinterestedly.

“You admitted setting him loose! I don't know about the other two charges, but give an hour and round up more than enough proof to prove you did it.”

"Wow. Paranoid much?" Daken asks with a smile.

"You did this!" Norman snarls.

“Prove it,” he repeats.

“I heard you!”

Daken looks around. “Did anyone else hear me say I set him loose?”

“Nope,” Lester says.

“You said no such thing.” Karla agrees.

"Did either of you hear me say that I personally agreed to swap his cologne out for meat juice?" He asks.

"No," Lester says.

"Or that the lunch game was my idea?" Daken continues.

"Nope." Karla shakes her head.

“See?” Daken asks. “No witnesses, no proof, no conviction.”

“You did this.” Norman hisses. “And I’ll have you thrown into a holding cell for it.”

“For an imagined conversation?” Daken scoffs.

“It was not imagined! You admitted to doing something to him. A man is now dead because YOU set Venom loose. Therefore- this is your fault!”

“YOU are the one who said to drop him. Therefore that man’s death is on you.” Daken says. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Norman looks around in confusion. “You admitted to it,” he said. “I heard you.”

“And your hearing is sooo reliable,” Daken says.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Norman snaps.

“Just that you’re looking a tad... green today,” Daken says.

“Yea... and your mood is a bit... goblin-ish,” Lester adds.

“Honestly Norman,” Karla says, “Have you been taking your medication?”

“I am not crazy!” he thunders. “He said he did it! I heard him! you heard him! He is guilty!”

“Prove it,” Daken says again.

“AGH! Talking to you is like yelling a brick wall. A dense, useless, brick wall!”

“Hmm... yes. But this brick wall can withstand a large cannibalistic alien jumping through a row of glass windows at full speed.” He says. “I don’t think a goblin would fare well against such a happening. Especially one that smells like meat.”

“What are you-“ Norman turns around. “Good god.” He gasps, hitting the floor just as Mac bursts through the windows, dropping a bunch of dead squirrels on the table.

“Huh. Squirrels.” Karla says. “Who had squirrels?”

“Dunno,” Lester says, nudging Mac’s large form with his boot. “Think it’s a new one.”

“Squirrels have got to be the weirdest, most normal thing he’s brought back yet,” Daken says.

Norman looks up from the floor, glancing up at the table. “Why are those things moving?” He asks.

“because fully dead squirrels aren’t any good.” Mac hisses- more venom than Mac. He makes a loud sniffing noise. "One of you smells good."

As if scared by the deep register of the voice of the large creature- two of the squirrels squirm hard enough to fall from the table- landing on Norman’s back.

“Agh!” he quickly gets to his feet, brushing himself off. “No more letting Mac loose for your entertainment.” He orders. “Daken- You will come to the security office for interrogation.”

"It's him." Mac crawls onto the table, easily drawing everyone in the room.

"Stop that," Norman growls.

Mac eyes him with an inhuman look.

It's clear that the symbiote is thinking something. Something it and Mac are discussing. Weighing options- as it were.

Norman knows there is a very real possibility- very very real- that Mac eating him is one of those options.

"Daken- holding cells. Now," he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Good fucking luck with that.” Karla laughs.

Mac's tongue lolls out and reaches the table- a good bit of saliva falling with it.

He moves closer to Norman, making the man take a not so subtle step back. Several in fact, until he's back into the closed doors.

"Who wants to bet that he eats Normie?" Lester says.

"Hmm... not an option we'd previously discussed," Daken says. "I like it. Twenty dollars on mac eating Osborn."

"I'll bet thirty that Norman runs to his safe house," Karla says thoughtfully.

"Either way- briefing adjourned," Lester says. "Amiright?"

Mac takes another huge step towards Norman.

Knowing the symbiote and how it works as Norman does- he knows Venom's slow movements and inhuman stares are all because Mac and the symbiote are discussing the situation over.

And he'll be damned if he sticks around to the end of that discussion.

"You're all dismissed." He says, his voice is almost a squeak.

Daken and Mac seem to zone in on it.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he walks to the door and slams it shut behind him, waiting a good thirty seconds before taking off and a run and going to the control center of the tower- behind very large steel doors. He pulls his phone of his pocket, "Hand- I need all new shower supplies and cologne and new guards placed on my living quarters." He says, slumping down in a chair and wiping his brow.

"What's wrong with the ones you have now?" Victoria asks.

Norman sighs. "I don't want to talk about it." He hangs up the phone and closes his eyes, feeling his heart beat increase and his blood pressure rise. "Insolent thugs." He murmurs, putting the phone down on a table in front of him and watching the cameras like a hawk to see that there are no surprise 'guests' coming to visit.

 


End file.
